Rating: NC-17 - This story contains violence and consensual graphic sex between a man and a woman. If this offends you, is illegal where you live or you are under 18, go somewhere else.
Disclaimer: The characters of John Lawless, Alan Snow, Susan Ellis, Marla Lawless, Willy Kaa, Terry Bowers, Sonya and Paulie Davidson and Dave Bruford belong to South Pacific Pictures. The use of those characters in this story is not intended as copyright infringement.
John Lawless leaned up against his car and tilted his head back to down the last dregs of his beer. The night was perfectly clear; a million pinpricks of light perforated the black velvet of the midnight sky. John crushed the can, then tossed it off behind him into an alley. He pushed his hair out of his face and shook his head slightly. Damn. Drunk again. He pulled his coat closer around him. The night air was chilly; winter was definitely on the way.
"Hey, bro!"
Lawless looked up to see his friend Willie stumbling out of the pub and across the road to join him. The streetlight reflected off his closely shaved skull, and although it was cold, Willie wore nothing more than a sleeveless T-shirt and a black leather vest, leaving his muscular arms with their tattoos bare.
"Where’re you going?" Willie called. "The night’s young and there’s a party at Sam’s."
Lawless shook his head. "Naw. I’m not in the mood, bro."
Willie leaned against the car next to him. "Look. Don’t let those blokes in the pub get you down, eh? They’re dickheads."
Lawless shrugged. "Doesn’t matter. As far as they’re concerned, once a cop, always a cop."
"They’ll learn, man. Give ‘em time." Willie grinned. "Soon you’ll be famous round here. Johnny Wilson, Private Eye." He snickered, and then his smile melted away. "Sorry. I keep forgetting."
John grimaced. "Sometimes I wish I really WERE Johnny Wilson, bro," he said softly. "My life’d be a lot easier."
"Come on to the party, then," Willie urged. "Maybe you’ll meet you a client at Sam’s."
Lawless couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s tenacity, but his smile faded away as he caught sight of a form lurching down the street toward them. His cop’s instincts immediately kicked in, and he moved between the advancing shape and his companion.
Willie peered around him, however, and clapped him on the back. "No worries, mate. That’s just Dan Owens." He barked a sharp laugh. "He’s drunker than we are."
"Something’s wrong," Lawless insisted as warning bells continued to go off in his head. He moved up on the sidewalk to block the approaching man. Now he could see the stringy blond hair and scruffy lean face of one of the sometime regulars at the local pub. "Dan?" he hailed the man curiously.
Owens came to a halt, swaying in place as he stared at the tall figure blocking his way. Then his gaze drifted over to the shorter man and recognition flared in his light blue eyes. "Willie?"
"Hey, mate," Willie greeted the man. "How’s it hanging?"
Owens opened his mouth to speak, but instead, he went to his knees on the pavement. He looked up at Willie and held up his left hand. A thick viscous fluid covered it, inky black in the light of the street lamp.
"Jesus," Lawless breathed. "What’d you do, man?" He knelt down in front of the Dan.
"Bastard shot me and stole my stash," Owens wheezed.
Lawless looked up at Willie in panic. "We’ve got to get him to a hospital."
Dan reached up and grabbed the front of Lawless’ jacket. "No way, man." Using his grip on John’s coat as support, he lurched to his feet. "Got to get to Ballard’s lab, Willie. Hospital asks too damn many questions. I was working tonight. Ballard’d kill me."
Lawless straightened up and shot his friend a questioning glance. Willie shrugged. "Ballard’s the supplier south of here. He’s got a private place set up for stuff like this."
"Place? What, you mean a clinic or something?" Lawless asked.
Willie nodded. "Yeah. I know where it is. Let’s get him in the car."
Lawless and Willie managed to get the injured man into the backseat of John’s car, and then they both got in the front. Willie pointed the way, and then he used Lawless’ mobile phone to place a call. John sped through the back streets of Auckland toward an even seedier part of town. Following Willie’s instructions, he drove through countless twists and turns until finally they drove into a dimly lit alley. John pulled the car to a stop in front of a grimy old warehouse.
"This is it?" he asked dubiously. "Bro, I really think he’d be better off at a hospital."
Willie grinned and climbed out of the car. "It’s cool, man," he promised. He opened the back door and hauled Dan out of the seat, and then he and Lawless helped the injured man into the warehouse.
The inside of the warehouse didn’t make Lawless feel much better. It was gloomy, and the place was stacked high with boxes on all sides. He could hear faint rustling noises in the darkness that he knew must be rats. "Willie?" he said in a low, nervous voice. "Are you sure about this?"
Willie nodded toward a path between the boxes, so Lawless tightened his hold on Dan Owens and steered him in the indicated direction. They followed the twisting passageway until it ended at a closed door. Willie opened the door, and when John helped Dan inside, his mouth fell open in shock.
The room into which Lawless led the injured man was brightly lit and pristinely neat. Every surface gleamed white, and the place was stocked with myriad gadgets, many of which he could put no name to. A long examination table sat against one wall, and he and Willie helped Dan over to it. John helped the man remove his coat to reveal a white T-shirt stained red along the right side. Dan lay back on the table, holding his side and groaning.
Lawless stalked over to the door and looked out into the darkness of the warehouse, then back into the room to gaze at the injured man on the table. "Where in the bloody hell is the doctor?" he asked Willie.
"The doctor is right here, cowboy," a sultry voice said behind him.
Lawless turned, and for the second time that night, his mouth fell open in shock. In the doorway stood a woman, at least he assumed she was a woman. She was very small; he doubted the top of her head came any higher than the middle of his chest. One glance down at her body put his doubts to rest, however. She might have been small but she had curves in all the right places, shown off to perfection in the tight blue jeans and light green Henley T she wore. Her auburn hair hung in a shimmering straight fall to just below chin level where it curled under gracefully to frame a delicate oval face. Her cheekbones slanted upwards ever so slightly, as did her startling green eyes, giving her face an almost elfin quality. Her full lips were curved in a mocking smile, and when his gaze met hers, he saw that his perusal of her amused her vastly.
"When you’re done looking," she drawled in a pronounced American accent, "would you move so I can get to my patient?" She glanced down at the boots that graced his feet and added mockingly, "Cowboy."
John moved aside to let her pass, and she went immediately to the table, nodding to Willie as she passed him. "What’re you doing on this side of town, Willie?" she asked, a faint hint of disapproval in her tone.
Willie shrugged. "Just brought Dan down, Doc. He was on our turf."
The woman nodded her understanding, and then she went over to a sink and began to wash her hands. She eyed Dan Owens carefully. "What’d you do, Danny boy? Get yourself shot?"
"Yeah, Doc," Owens groaned. "Lost my stash too."
The woman shook her head and made a clucking noise with her tongue. "Oh, my heart bleeds, Danny. If you wouldn’t deal that shit, this wouldn’t happen."
She pulled on some surgeon’s gloves, and then she bent to examine the wound. Quickly, she cut away the T-shirt to reveal a gaping hole about a half-inch in diameter on Dan’s right side. She washed it efficiently, then examined it more closely. She straightened and began rummaging through some instruments inside a sterilizer. "It’s not bad, Danny," she said. "I can see the bullet. Doesn’t look like it hit anything vital. It just clipped a vein; that’s why it’s bleeding so much. I’ll pull it out and take a few stitches, and you’ll be good as new."
"Give me something for the pain," the man begged.
The doctor bent over and looked deep into Dan’s eyes, and then she shook her head. "Looks like you’ve been sampling your wares, Danny. I’m not giving you anything but a local."
She set to work, first deadening the surrounding tissue, then prying out the flattened bullet, then cauterizing the broken blood vessels and stitching up the wound. Lawless watched in fascination as her hands moved skillfully over the injury. She glanced up and caught him staring at her, and her eyebrows drew together in mild irritation. She bent her head again and went back to her task, ignoring him pointedly. In no time at all she had Dan taken care of. She gave him an injection, then stripped off her gloves and threw them in the trash.
"Come back in a couple of days and let me check it for infection," she informed Owens. "And take it easy for a while, okay, Danny boy?"
"Sure thing, Doc," Dan agreed as he struggled to sit up. The woman helped him rise, and then Willie came forward to help him to the floor.
"Can you get him home safe, Willie?" she asked.
"No worries, Doc," Willie replied. He nodded to Lawless and together they left the room, their arms around Dan’s shoulders. John cast one last look back at the woman. She was moving around the room, cleaning up, and when she felt the weight of his stare, she glanced up. For some inexplicable reason, anger shot through her green eyes, and she turned her back on him. Puzzled, Lawless went with Willie and Dan back into the gloomy warehouse.
When he and Willie had Dan safely stowed away at home and were headed back to their side of town, Lawless glanced over at his friend. "Who in the hell was that woman?" he asked.
Willie grinned. "The Doc? She’s something, ain’t she?"
"No shit," Lawless muttered.
Willie laughed heartily. "Down, boy. Let me tell you something about Dr. Elizabeth Knighton. She is a beautiful piece of work, and she’s a great doctor, but you get too close, she’ll freeze your balls off."
Lawless’ eyebrow rose, and he glanced at his friend curiously. "Look but don’t touch, eh?"
"You got it, bro," Willie said amiably. "Besides, she’s way out of our league."
"So what’s she doing working for Ballard then?"
Willie shrugged. "I have no clue, unless it’s because of her brother."
"Brother?" John echoed.
"Yeah, I don’t guess you’ve met him. His name’s Benjie. Benjie K we call him. Ballard loves this kid. He looks like a frigging angel. Got these blond curls and the most innocent looking face you’ve ever seen. He’s been running drugs for Ballard for a few months now, and he has yet to get caught. He’s been stopped a couple of times, but he turns on his sincere American routine, and they let him go."
Lawless’ forehead furrowed. "His sister knows he runs drugs?"
Willie shrugged again. "I dunno, bro." He studied Lawless and laughed. "Don’t go there, man. Seriously, the woman is cold."
"What are you talking about, mate? Go where?"
Willie grinned. "You got the hots for the doc. I can tell. Your tongue ‘bout hit the floor when she walked in."
"You’re imagining things, Willie," John muttered grumpily. "Besides, like you said, she’s out of our league."
Willie leaned back and eyed Lawless. "But it sure would be nice to sample a little of that, eh?"
John glanced at his friend and grinned. "You got that right, bro."
They burst out laughing, and John was still smiling when he pulled up in front of Willie’s place. He dropped his friend off, then headed for his own digs. He’d decided to stay in his house on the waterfront after he’d quit his job with the police. He still drove his cab to make ends meet, but he was determined to build up a detective business, even if it WAS on the wrong side of town. These people had been good to him; he thought he could make a go of it here, at least after everyone got over their initial mistrust of him and his former line of work. Willie was helping a lot. People around here trusted Willie; they listened to what he had to say. With his backing, John hoped to be able to give up driving the cab to do detective work full time.
He locked the car and went inside, not even bothering to turn on the lights. He undressed and fell into bed, exhausted, but for once, he wasn’t drunk. The incident with Dan Owens had sobered him up completely. He let his thoughts drift back to the woman doctor. She was a little beauty. He didn’t need Willie to tell him she was out of his league, although not so very long ago that thought would never have crossed his mind. Even though the woman had worn no jewelry and had been simply dressed, everything about her reeked of money, from the cut of her hair to her perfect make-up to her pristine manicure. So what in the hell was she doing working for Ballard? Maybe he’d just have to do a little detective work for himself. He wanted to know more about the lovely Dr. Knighton.
Dave Bruford nervously straightened his tie as he gazed in the bathroom mirror. He patted down his dark hair and adjusted his jacket. "I can’t believe you’re doing this to me," he informed his best friend.
Lawless glanced at his own reflection. As a sort of private protest, he’d refused to cut his hair or shave his beard and mustache for this affair. He had pulled his hair back in a queue to make it a little more presentable, but in reality it just served to make the gold hoop in his left ear all the more noticeable. He DID have on the required dress for the night, but his suit was a bit different from the usual cop dress gear. The coat was longer than the norm, and he wore no tie; his shirt had a high mandarin collar with a notch at the neck. He might not look much like a cop anymore, but tonight at least, he was presentable. "You said this benefit included all medical and all law enforcement personnel," he informed his friend. "Including P.I.s."
"Yeah, well, that’s true," Dave admitted, "but you’re not exactly everyone’s favorite person these days, you know? There are a lot of cops who side with Snow."
Lawless snorted. "And you wonder why I quit."
Dave shrugged. "Look, just keep a low profile. Try not to embarrass me or Jo."
"I’ll do my best," Lawless promised with a sly grin, eliciting a groan from his friend.
"Just stay away from Snow," Dave warned.
"No problem, mate," John assured his friend. "I have no desire to talk to that prick."
The two friends left the loo and headed for the main room in the Auckland Park Regency that was currently housing the partygoers of the annual charity benefit for police widows and orphans. The hospital was hosting this year’s affair, and the room was filled with a mixed array of beautifully garbed women wearing glittering gems and handsomely attired men. There were also quite a few people standing about who looked extremely ill at ease as if they weren’t used to wearing the finery forced upon them for the occasion. Compared to some of the beat cops he saw, Lawless looked downright respectable.
He saw Susan Ellis across the room, and when she raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction, he made his way through the crowded ballroom toward her. His old boss looked extremely sharp tonight. She wore a long white sheath, elegant in its simplicity. Her reddish blond hair had been pulled back into a soft twist, and she looked very feminine in a way she usually didn’t in her police uniform. She was currently engaged in conversation with a person that John couldn’t quite see because of the intervening bodies.
He slipped through the press and finally reached Susan’s side, breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn’t chatting with his old operator. Her companion was a diminutive woman wearing an extremely short but very nicely filled out black dress with thin straps that left the creamy skin of her shoulders and most of her back gloriously bare. A shining wave of auburn hair fell to her neckline, and John had just enough time to register that she seemed familiar when she turned. He stopped dead in his tracks. Luckily, from the smile that crossed his old boss’ face, Susan seemed to think his reaction had to do with her companion’s looks rather than the fact that they’d seen each other before.
Dr. Elizabeth Knighton’s eyes widened just a bit as she saw him, but she recovered quickly. No one looking on would have realized that she’d ever seen him before. When Susan Ellis greeted John and introduced them, the good doctor held out her hand to shake his, her flashing green eyes warning him to hold his tongue. He obeyed her silent wish, greeting the doctor as if this were the first time their paths had crossed. His interest was more than piqued, however. Especially when she excused herself quickly and left him alone with Susan. He continued his conversation with his old boss, but his gaze stayed planted on the doctor as she walked across the room.
"Lovely, isn’t she?" Susan observed with a knowing smile.
John nodded and dragged his gaze away. "She’s a doctor, eh?" he asked casually.
"Yes," Susan agreed. "She’s American. She’s over here on a trade with a Chicago hospital, although I don’t believe she’s from there originally."
John shook his head. "I didn’t think that was a Chicago accent. Southern more like it."
Susan smiled her agreement, but then she glanced across the room toward the subject of their discussion, and her face darkened. The doctor had been stopped by D.S.S. Snow, and as John watched, both of their heads swiveled to look back at him and Susan. He swore softly to himself. Trust Snow to pass on the word about him.
"Ignore him, John," Susan said, entwining her arm in his and pulling him toward the long table bearing hors d’oeuvres and punch. "You know," she continued as she took a glass of punch and took a small sip. "I really wish you’d reconsider your decision to leave the force. I know the internal investigation came up with no hard evidence, but you do have a lot of backing. Snow’s overstepped his bounds once too often, and he’s being watched very carefully. We need good officers, John, and you’re one of the best."
John downed his punch and put the cup back on the table. "Sorry, Susan," he said with true regret. "I just can’t do that." He caught Dave’s eye across the room and turned back to Susan Ellis. "But I do appreciate the offer, boss," he assured her. "More than you know." He bid her good-bye, and then he weaved back through the room to locate his friend.
Several hours later, after a fairly decent meal and one too many boring speeches, John was engaged in a conversation with one of his old mates when he noticed Elizabeth Knighton slipping out of the room by herself. Moved by a compulsion he didn’t want to study too closely, he made apologies to his friend and left the room to follow her.
He couldn’t help but admire the way her hips swayed as she walked out to the curb to wait on her car. The black dress she wore hugged her curves, and the way it dipped in the back allowed an enticing amount of soft white skin to show. John felt a familiar tightening in his groin and tried to squelch it. He hadn’t needed Willie to tell him the woman was out of his league. He knew he’d do well to stay far away from her, but, as usual, his body and his brain weren’t communicating very well.
"G’day," he said amiably, coming to her side and handing his stub to a valet who immediately sprinted toward the parked cars.
The doctor turned, and the temperature of the air around him seemed to drop a little as she glared at him icily. "What do you want?" she snapped, glancing around to make sure no one was in the near vicinity.
John raised an eyebrow, surprised a bit at her vehemence. "Calm down, Doc," he said. "I just wanted to say hello. I was a little surprised to see you down here, that’s all." He grinned crookedly. "Guess your colleagues in there don’t know about your gig with Ballard, eh?"
The doctor stared at him for a moment, and then a wry smile crossed her full lips. "Oh, I see, ex Detective Constable Lawless. You’re adding blackmail to your long list of accomplishments now, right after bank robbery and murder."
John’s temper flared. "So that’s how it is in America, eh? You’re considered guilty until proven innocent. I guess Snow filled your ears with tales about me, and you believed every word you heard. Typical."
Elizabeth’s green eyes seemed to frost over. "I knew Sonya," she informed him in a cold voice. "I worked with her at the hospital."
John felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and slammed it into his stomach. He was unable to come up with a suitable retort, but he was saved from having to say a word as a valet arrived with the doctor’s car just then, a fire engine red Porsche. Without a word, she climbed in, not even gracing him with a look as she pulled away. John gazed after the departing vehicle, trying to shake off the sadness that always gripped him when he thought about Sonya. If he hadn’t been involved with her, she’d be alive today; her death was on his head as much as the death of that guard who’d been killed in the bank robbery that had cost him his career. Feeling the familiar fingers of depression clutching at him, Lawless climbed into his car, ignoring the distasteful expression on the valet’s face as he stepped away from the taxi. Lawless drove away from the hotel in search of the nearest bar and as much alcohol as he could drink without killing himself.
The pub was crowded, and Lawless shoved his way through the mass, trying to locate a place to sit down and get as drunk as humanly possible. He received quite a few puzzled glances. He’d left his coat in the car, but he was still dressed a little too fine for the usual patrons of the bar.
Just then, he saw Willie on the far side of the room at a small table talking with a young blond man that he’d had never seen before. John made his way to the table, signaling to a passing barmaid for a beer.
"Brother!" Willie called as he spotted his friend. "Looking good tonight."
John pulled up a chair just as the waitress brought over his beer. He paid, and then he grinned at his friend. "Guess I should’ve gone home and changed, eh?" He glanced over at Willie’s companion, a question on his face.
"Oh, yeah," Willie said. "You two haven’t met. John Lawless, meet Benjamin Knighton, Benjie K to his friends."
John bit back a curse. What was with his luck tonight? Two Knightons within the space of a few minutes. He should’ve just bought a bottle and gone home.
"Pleased to meet you," the young blond man said, holding out a hand to greet John.
Not wanting to be rude, John shook the boy’s hand, eyeing him curiously. He could certainly see why Ballard loved the kid. Benjie had blond curls that surrounded his head like a cap and wide blue eyes fringed with barely discernable lashes. His entire countenance practically screamed innocence. He reminded Lawless of the angels he’d seen in some religious paintings. Benjie also had that distinctive rich patina to him. Anyone looking at him would know he came from money. He was definitely not your usual drug runner.
The kid’s expression was earnest as he leaned forward so John could hear him over the noise in the pub. "Willie’s been telling me about you. You got a raw deal, man. That really sucks."
Lawless shrugged. "Just life, I guess," he said noncommittally.
"Well, I think it’s great that you’re not letting the bastards get you down," the kid continued. "Willie tells me you’ve gone private. Much call for that here?"
Again, Lawless shrugged. "Dunno, mate. Haven’t been in the business long."
Benjie glanced at Willie, and when the older man nodded, he turned back to Lawless. "Well, I sort of need your help."
John immediately went on his guard. Help? The less he had to do with the Knighton family, the better.
"Yeah," Benjie continued. "You see, I’ve sort of lost something, and I was hoping you could help me find it."
Lawless leaned back in his chair and took a long draught of his beer, studying the young man over the top of his mug. "What’d you lose?" he asked pointedly.
"Well . . ." Benjie dropped his head as if embarrassed. "You see, I brought something to a party, and then I sort of forgot about it, and when I went back to get it, it was gone."
"What?" John repeated impatiently.
"A Faberge egg," the boy conceded in a miserable voice.
Lawless straightened, and he stared at Benjie incredulously. "A Faberge egg?" he echoed.
"Yeah, they were made by this Russian dude . . ."
John cut the young man off. "I know what a Faberge egg is. I’m not THAT thick. What were you doing with a Faberge egg and why in the bloody hell would you take it to a party?"
Benjie shifted nervously in his seat. "Well, it’s not a REAL Faberge, you see," he explained. "It’s a copy. An EXPENSIVE copy. It was cool looking, though. It had a hinged lid and when you opened it, there was a whole little scene inside. I just wanted to show it off some."
Lawless gazed at they boy levelly. "Was it yours?"
Benjie began to pick idly at the skin surrounding his thumbnail, and John noted that all of the kid’s fingernails were ragged as if he gnawed on them constantly. "Well, actually, it sort of belongs to . . . well, my sister." He looked up at John with desperation in his bright blue eyes. "That’s why I need you to find it for me. She’s gonna kill me when she realizes it’s gone. She’s got all these statues and things all over the house and she’s REAL protective of them."
"Man," Lawless said, shaking his head. "You’ve got to realize someone has probably already pawned that thing."
Benjie was shaking his head before John finished his sentence. "Naw, I’ve checked all the pawn shops. Besides, the people at this party wouldn’t know a Faberge egg if it jumped up and bit them. I didn’t exactly advertise how much it cost. I doubt anyone even realized it was worth anything. I figure someone just thought it was pretty and took it home with them."
Lawless stared at the boy incredulously. Did he truly believe that shit?
Benjie noticed the look, and he straightened defensively. "Look, I can pay you. Pretty damn good, too."
That hit home. John definitely needed the money. It was tough making it on the remnants of his savings and the money he made from driving his taxi. It was a good thing Marla had wanted no alimony and they’d had no children for him to support, or he’d have no money at all.
"All right, mate," he agreed reluctantly. "I’ll take you on." Lawless sketched out his terms, and the boy quickly agreed.
"This is great!" Benjie exclaimed, obviously relieved. "You wouldn’t BELIEVE what my sister is like when she’s mad."
Lawless grimaced. He knew EXACTLY what Benjie’s sister was like when she was mad; in fact, that seemed to be her natural state. He brushed aside thoughts of the tantalizing doctor and talked the boy through the party, getting the names of the people who’d attended, memorizing the details so he could investigate properly later. That was one good thing about being an undercover cop. You had to depend on your brain more than pencil and paper. That trick would stand him in good stead in his new career.
John finished out the night visiting with Willie and the kid. Actually, Benjie wasn’t so bad. They knew many of the same people, and the stories he told were pretty funny. For some reason, the fact that some of the rawer stories came from such a baby face probably made them even funnier. Even knowing that the kid ran drugs for Ballard and that he was related to the irritating Dr. Knighton, Lawless couldn’t help but like him. Benjie was probably just in need of some guidance. He’d mentioned that he lived with his sister; no parents had been spoken of.
By the time the bar closed down, Benjie was staggering from his intake of alcohol. Surprisingly enough, John wasn’t all that drunk. He’d come in here with the express purpose of getting pissed out of his gourd, but whether because of the kid or because of the job, he’d had fewer beers than his two companions. Willie was almost as drunk as Benjie, so it fell to Lawless to take the two of them home.
Willie was easy enough to get rid of, but by the time he pulled up in front of the small but extremely posh house that Benjie and his sister shared, the boy was barely able to stand on his own. Suppressing his irritation, John helped the kid to his door.
Benjie finally managed to locate his key, and Lawless steered him through the door into the dark house. Unfortunately, the first thing the kid did was to stumble into a table, sending a vase full of flowers crashing to the floor.
"Whoops," Benjie said, and then he burst into giggles.
Suddenly, a light flared down the hallway, and Lawless turned to see Elizabeth Knighton standing in the far doorway, her hands on her hips and fire in her green eyes. They’d obviously woken her; her hair was ruffled and she was dressed for bed in a long, silky white nightgown that clung to her body in an incredibly distracting way. Her stance forced her breasts out, and he could see that the coolness of the night air had hardened her nipples. He felt that familiar tightening in his groin, a surge of lust that was now tinged with anger. One look at her face, however, told him she knew exactly what he was thinking, and her expression left no doubt of her disgust for him.
"Hey, Lizzie," Benjie called drunkenly. "Meet m’new frien’. Thesh esh Johnny."
Elizabeth ignored her brother. "Bring him in here," she commanded John in a cold voice. She really didn’t seem all that surprised to see her brother in this state. It was obvious to Lawless that this scene had been played out many times before.
He did as indicated, helping Benjie down the long hallway. Elizabeth stood at the doorway to a room, and John guided the boy inside to a king-size bed. He dropped Benjie to the bed, then looked around curiously. There was a killer sound system in the corner, every electronic gadget he could name, and some he didn’t even recognize. A massive television sat beside the stereo, accompanied by a VCR and a DVD player. A large computer desk with accompanying PC rested against the wall by the bed, even more gadgets hanging off it.
Obviously, Benjie liked electronic toys. A long dresser, a deep armchair and ottoman, and a nightstand with an ornate tiffany lamp and a cordless telephone completed the furnishings. It was definitely not your usual bedroom for a young twenty-something, at least not in Lawless’ new neighborhood.
He looked up at the doorway where Elizabeth stood, a question in his eyes.
"Just leave him," she snapped. "If he throws up on his clothes, that’s his problem."
John nodded and pulled the comforter over his new friend, and then he headed for the door. The doctor moved out of his way, allowing him to pass. She gazed at her brother for a moment with an unfathomable expression on her face, and then she flipped off the light. She pulled the door to, and then she turned on Lawless, anger making her green eyes flash in the low lighting of the hallway.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" she hissed.
"Eh?" John asked, baffled by both the question and her obvious anger with him.
"What exactly do you want, Lawless?" she growled. "Money? Am I going to have to pay you to leave me alone?"
Lawless glared right back at her. "Lady, I don’t want a damned thing from you. You think you could at least thank me for bringing your brother home. I could have left him in the pub drunk off his ass. No telling WHAT would have happened to him there."
"What were you doing with him in the first place?" she demanded.
Lawless shrugged, trying to think of a plausible response for their being together. He didn’t want to betray the kid to his sister, nor did he think the doctor would be thrilled to know that her brother was his newest client. "It was just chance, okay, Doc?" he said at last. "I went to my regular pub and he was there with Willie. I didn’t go seeking him out. It was just a coincidence."
"Right," she snorted. "Like I believe that shit. Especially from someone like you."
John’s anger flared higher. He backed the woman into the far wall, partly gratified and partly sickened to see the fear that leapt into her eyes as he loomed over her. "You don’t know a bloody thing about me," he growled.
"I know enough," she retorted. "Snow told me . . ."
Lawless’ temper, never far from the surface these days, exploded. Just the mention of his old operator made him see red. He shoved the woman up against the wall, halting her in mid sentence, glaring down at her. Her eyes went wide with shock. She opened her mouth, whether to scream or to say something he never knew, because without thinking, he stopped her the only way he could think of. He covered her mouth with his own, something he only now realized he’d wanted to do from the first time he laid eyes on her.
He kissed her brutally, trying to possess her with his mouth, his body aching in a way it hadn’t since Sonya had died. Her hands were trapped between them, pressing against his chest. He ground himself into her, pressing her back even more into the wall. He poured all his anger and all his lust into the kiss, and when he pulled away at last, he was panting heavily.
She stared up at him with green eyes full of shocked outrage, and before he could stop her, she drew back a hand and slapped him. In a way, although it hurt like the devil, he was grateful, because his desire and anger drained away leaving him feeling vaguely ill.
"Get out of my house," Elizabeth commanded, her voice shaky with both fear and rage. "Leave me alone, and leave my brother alone."
"You should worry more about the other company you two keep," John retorted. "If you think I’m so bad, why’re you working for Ballard."
The doctor’s face went white and her lips thinned with anger. "Get out of here, or I’ll call the police. The REAL police."
A fleeting smile crossed John’s lips, and for just a moment he was tempted to call her bluff, but suddenly he was so shagged out he just wanted to go to bed. "Fine, Doc," he said in a low voice. "I just think you ought to keep a closer eye on your little brother. He’s headed for disaster." He paused, wanting to say more, but then he decided he’d stuck his nose in too far anyway. He headed for the door, but then he paused and glanced back at her one last time. He felt a faint echo of his earlier desire as his gaze traveled over her silk clad body, but nothing like the roaring fire that had threatened to engulf him earlier. "See ya around, Doc," he said softly, a clear warning in his tone. Anger flashed in her green eyes again, but he left the hallway before she could retort.
He went outside to his car, hearing the tell tale sound of a lock turning behind him as she latched her door. He drove away, feeling drained and more than a little ill. How far he’d come from the naïve young policeman of just a few years back. Working undercover had completely changed the way he viewed the world, and then being turned on by the very man who’d been his mentor had sent him over the edge. Sometimes, he didn’t much care for the person he seemed to be turning into these days.
He reached his house and went inside, stripped, and then fell into bed, but sleep was a long time in coming. His mind kept playing over the whole night. The part that continued to haunt him, however, was the feel of Elizabeth’s mouth against his, and the sensation of her hands moving over his chest. Christ, he was getting hard again, just thinking about her. The most intriguing thing about the entire incident, however, was that even though she’d slapped him harder than some men could punch, for a moment, just a tiny moment, she’d responded to him. Her lips had parted under his, and her hands had caressed him. John drifted off to sleep at last, his forehead creased in confusion. However she might protest, he didn’t think the doctor was nearly so immune to him as she pretended.
Several days later, Lawless and Willie were working on his taxi, drinking beer and basically goofing off. John hadn’t forgotten his client. He’d been making inquiries with the people who’d been at the party. Sure enough, most of them remembered the egg, but only as a curiosity. None of them seemed to realize how much the thing was worth. Of course, no one seemed to remember what had happened to it either. John was nothing if not tenacious, however. He’d find that bloody egg, somehow, someway. He tried, but he couldn’t quite convince himself that finding it didn’t mean so much to him because of who owned it.
His mind on a certain auburn haired doctor instead of his work, he didn’t notice Willie coming around behind him. He dropped the hood of the car and turned, and then a searing pain shot through his chest as the knife Willie held in his hand skidded across his chest.
"Jesus Christ!" he yelled, staring down at the hole in his black T-shirt. The area around the hole was rapidly turning just a shade darker. "You trying to kill me, bro?"
"Shit," Willie swore, dropping the knife. "I was just gonna scrape off the battery terminals, man."
John pulled up his shirt to reveal a cut about two inches long low on his right pectoral. On the edges, it wasn’t so deep, but right in the middle, the cut gaped rather badly and it was bleeding profusely. It wasn’t life threatening, at least he hoped it wasn’t. It WAS bleeding badly, and he definitely needed stitches. He swore violently and glared at Willie. "Man, I hate going to the hospital."
Willie gazed at the way the gaping wound was oozing blood, his expression grim. "You need to get it stitched up," he informed his friend.
"I know," John snapped. "But . . ."
He was cut off as Willie snapped his fingers. "Hey, you don’t have to go to the hospital. You can go to the free clinic. They’ll stitch you up there. The doc there is pretty cool."
John calmed down a bit as he remembered the place Willie was talking about. The doctor who worked there on a regular basis WAS a cool guy; he’d stitch him up in no time flat. Although, with the way his luck was going lately, he’d get stuck with one of the doctors from the hospital who sometimes did rotations at the clinic.
Willie drove him down to the free clinic. The noise inside was horrendous. Today must have been shot day because it seemed like every mother and child on this side of town was in the small waiting room. Willie went up to the counter to talk to the woman on duty, and John fell into an empty chair next to a sulky kid of about ten. He was feeling a little lightheaded from blood loss. Luckily, the dark color of his T-shirt made it hard to see the blood, so no one gave him more than a cursory glance.
Dr. Peter Griffin came out just then, and John heard Willie tell the man something and wave vaguely in his direction. Unfortunately, Peter shook his head and nodded toward the waiting room full of kids. He pointed toward another door, and Willie nodded, then came back to John.
"He and the nurse are busy giving shots," Willie said, "but he said the doc on rotation can take care of you." He hauled John up and pulled him toward the door that Peter had pointed to. Lawless went along willingly enough, but when he went through the door, he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Bloody hell," he muttered. Why did this keep happening to him?
Elizabeth Knighton’s eyes narrowed when she saw who her patient was, and then a thin smile crossed her face as she took in his torn shirt and pale face. A funny feeling began to form in the pit of John’s stomach. He knew doctors took all sorts of vows, but he wouldn’t put it past her to make this one of the more unpleasant incidents of his life.
"Bring him over her, Willie," Dr. Knighton said pleasantly, with more than a hint of anticipation in her voice. Her tone didn’t make John feel any better. When Willie did as bid, he helped the doctor peel John’s shirt off. The T-shirt was sodden with blood by this time, and the doctor tossed it handily into the trash can.
"Isn’t that lovely," she drawled. "You’ve messed up your pretty chest here." Her lips curved into a pleased smile, and John glared up at her. Then he noticed that Willie seemed to find the whole situation just as entertaining, so he turned the glare on his friend as well. "Piss off, Willie," he growled.
"Guess I should wait outside, eh?" Willie said, and then he fled the room, laughing.
"Asshole," John muttered, and then he swore softly as the doctor began cleaning the wound a little more vigorously than was absolutely necessary. "Damn," he said. "Don’t you doctor’s swear some kind of oath to help people instead of hurting them?"
Elizabeth smiled down at him as she picked up a hypodermic needle. "I AM helping you, Lawless," she insisted. "If I wanted to hurt you, I’d inject some nice bacteria into that cut instead of this painkiller." She bent to insert the needle into the cut, but then she paused. "Unless, of course, you don’t trust me. I can always sew you up with no painkiller."
"Just give me the bloody shot," John growled through clenched teeth. He refused to move as she slid the needle home. He didn’t even flinch. Damned if he was going to let her get to him.
"We’ll just give that a minute to take effect," she said cheerily as she pulled over a tray with all sorts of dangerous looking gadgets on it and began to rummage through them. She picked up a nasty looking saw and when she saw she had his attention, she smiled hugely. Then she dropped it and picked up a relatively harmless looking needle.
"You know," John began. "I really don’t understand why you have such a thing against me. I’ve never done anything to you."
"Blackmail doesn’t count in your book I suppose," she observed.
"I never blackmailed you. I just pointed out an obvious fact."
"In a threatening manner," she countered.
John shook his head. "No. You simply took it that way. You saw me in that warehouse, and you immediately assumed I was trouble."
"I told you before that I knew Sonya," Elizabeth retorted stiffly. "She told me . . ." She trailed off as if suddenly uncomfortable.
"She told you what?" John demanded. "We weren’t together long enough for her to tell you much. Besides, she knew me as Johnny Wilson."
"I know," Elizabeth said softly. "She talked about you a lot, about how much she wanted to go out with you. Then, the day before she died, she was helping me on rounds, and she told me y’all were together, that you were even considering going to the Gold Coast with her. She was so happy. Sonya was usually wired, but that day she was practically walking on the clouds."
Lawless stared at the doctor in mild shock. "You knew about her coke habit?"
Elizabeth nodded slowly. "Yeah. I did a lot of work in Chicago with teenagers with drug habits. She had all the classic symptoms."
"You didn’t report her?" he quizzed curiously. He just couldn’t quite get a fix on the doctor. He’d never known anyone else whose life was so full of contradictions.
Her eyebrows drew together in vexation. "No, I didn’t report her," she said shortly. She leaned over him and pressed the skin around the cut. "Feel that?" When he shook his head, she began to stitch the wound together. Thankfully, she was as competent with him as she’d been with Dan Owens; John couldn’t feel a thing as she worked on him.
"I never meant for Sonya to get hurt," he said. "You want to blame someone, blame Snow. He’s the one who told her I was a cop."
Elizabeth paused and studied him closely as if trying to divine the truth of the matter. After a moment, she bent back to her work and shrugged. "Does it really matter? She’s still dead."
"Because of me," John said in a low voice full of pain. The doctor must have heard that as well because he was subjected to another one of her piercing stares.
She shifted over slightly to get a better angle on the cut, and she placed her left hand on the bare skin of his chest to steady herself. Her touch was light, but it was still enough to affect him. He flashed back on those very same hands running over his chest and her lips under his, and he could feel himself getting hard. He squirmed a little, trying to hide it, but that only served to make it more noticeable. He glanced up at her quickly to see that her cheeks were flushed slightly. She seemed to be trying her best to ignore him as she bent closer to finish off the stitches. They were so close he could smell her, the light hint of some expensive cologne, the floral scent of her shampoo. He suddenly had a wild urge to touch her shining hair to see if felt as soft as it looked, and before he quite realized it, he had done so.
She jerked away from him and fixed him with a glare, but John noticed that her cheeks were still flushed and her breathing was coming a little faster than it should have been. Then her eyes locked with his, and the moment seemed suspended in time. He reached up again to brush her hair, then to run a finger down the line of her jaw, and she shuddered when he touched her. Fierce longing leapt into her green eyes, and her lips parted as if begging to be kissed. He was more than willing to comply. He leaned forward until their mouths were less than an inch apart, and although she whispered the word ‘no,’ her eyes were begging him to complete the kiss.
Before he could do so, however, a loud knock came from the door. Dr. Griffin came into the room. "You about done in here, Elizabeth?" he asked. "I have got to go have a smoke. If one more kid screams in my ear, I’m going to go bloody nuts."
"Sure, Peter," Elizabeth said a little breathlessly, her cheeks stained with high color. "Just let me finish patching this one up and I’ll be right there."
"Bewdy," the man said, and then he left the two of them alone once again.
"Elizabeth," John said softly, but she quickly shook her head.
"Just leave me alone, Lawless," she commanded. "My life is complicated enough without any help from you." She slapped a bandage down over his cut, then finished him up efficiently, touching him no more than was absolutely necessary. She stripped off her gloves, then went to a cabinet, pulled out the top to a pair of medical scrubs, and tossed it to him. He slipped the garment on as she began cleaning up her paraphernalia.
John went over to stand behind her. She stiffened when he touched her on the shoulder, and she would not turn. "I want to see you," he said softly, almost desperately.
She shook her head. "No. You’re all done, now. Please leave. I have to go help Peter."
"This isn’t finished between us, Elizabeth," he warned.
She sighed heavily, still refusing to turn and look at him. At last, he gave up and left the room, shaking his head. It was obvious to him now that she was interested. Why was she fighting it so hard? Women. He’d never understand them, not if he lived to be a thousand.
A week passed, a busy one for John. He took on two more small jobs, and he worked most of his days tracking down information. He spent his nights at the pub with Willie, and more likely than not, Benjie would show up. The kid seemed to have become attached to John, but instead of finding it annoying, Lawless was a little flattered. He was actually becoming fond of the young American. Benjie didn’t drive, so he was at the mercy of his friends, but because he was so generous with his money, he never had a problem rounding up a ride to the pub or elsewhere. He was notorious, too, for buying rounds for everyone. John had never met anyone so desperate to have everyone like him. It made him wonder what Benjie’s life at home was like, what his relationship was with his sister.
Benjie had John drive him to his house one day to pick up some tunes, and he offered to show John around. Lawless saw that Benjie hadn’t been kidding about his sister’s things when they’d first met; Elizabeth had all sorts of bric-a-brac around the house, small figurines and statuettes and the like, all of them extremely expensive. It was a mistake, however, to let Benjie show him her bedroom. It was a large room, excruciatingly neat. There was no clue to its owner’s identity, no pictures hanging on the walls, none standing on the bedside table or vanity. The furniture was made of heavy cherry and obviously expensive; the king-size bed was covered with a thick quilt of rich greens and reds, and it had posts that reached almost to the ceiling. He gazed at the bed with almost unhealthy fascination, able to see Elizabeth asleep there with almost perfect clarity. He could see her lying on the bed in her white nightgown, the silky material outlining the curve of her breast. He remembered the way her nipples had hardened in the night air, and his groin tightened painfully. Thankfully, Benjie dragged him out of there before he totally lost it.
That Friday, Benjie left to go to the South Island for Ballard, and John headed toward the bad part of town. One of Benjie’s mates at the party had been out of town, but he was back now, and he had agreed to meet Lawless at a pub. John entered the bar, and the first thing he saw was Matt Ballard holding court at a large table in the back of the room. He went in the opposite direction and slid into a booth where he could observe Ballard without drawing attention to himself. The drug lord was a large man of obvious Maori extract. He kept his head and face shaved clean, and his dark eyes were the coldest that John had ever seen. He looked like he could kill a man with his bare hands and would enjoy every minute of it. John shook his head, wondering how Elizabeth could stand to work for the man, or Benjie for that matter.
Luckily, his contact arrived shortly, and the man plainly remembered the egg. Even better, he also remembered seeing one of the girls at the party, a local hooker, eyeing it rather lovingly. He had no qualms about supplying John with a name, especially after a couple of beers. Lawless committed the name to memory, and then a commotion across the room caught his attention.
A woman stood beside Ballard’s table, and it was obvious that she was reading the drug lord the rights about something. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Lawless recognized Elizabeth Knighton. No one else had hair that shade or so perfectly cut, nor a body that small yet so enticingly curved. She was wearing a tight green dress that just barely covered her ass and spiked green heels that added at least four inches to her height. She made one last comment to Ballard, then spun on her heels and marched for the door. She paused for a split second when she saw John, but then her features tightened and she sailed from the room. There was total silence in the bar for a moment, and then Ballard began to laugh. Soon, the entire room had joined in. Quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself, John bid his informant good night and headed out the door to find the doctor.
He looked around the parking lot and finally located Elizabeth stalking toward the last rank of cars. Unfortunately, a man stepped out of the shadows, halting her in her progress. John tensed, but then he recognized Dan Owens. He continued toward the pair slowly until he was in earshot.
"Danny, you don’t even want to be thinking about that," he heard Elizabeth drawl in her sultry southern accent. "I’ve been to medical school and I know just where to hit you to cause you the most pain."
"Come on, Doc," Dan implored drunkenly. "You know you want me. I could see it that night at the lab. Remember?"
"Oh, Jesus Christ," John heard Elizabeth mutter, but before she (or John) could react, Dan was on her, backing her into a car, groping at her.
Lawless moved quickly, but not quickly enough. Elizabeth tried to bring her knee up into Dan’s groin, but because of her precarious perch on her heels, she couldn’t quite get the necessary force. She only succeeded in infuriating the man, and he angrily backhanded her. She fell to the ground, and John bellowed in rage. He flew across the last few feet separating them and began to pummel Dan senseless. It didn’t take much; Dan was too far gone drunk. He went down hard and stayed down. Lawless stood over him, breathing heavily, trying to control a sudden urge to kill the bastard. He heard Elizabeth struggling to her feet behind him and turned. She tottered toward a white Honda, and he went to her side.
Her face was already swelling from the force of Dan’s blow, and she was weaving as if SHE was the one who was drunk. "Here now," John said in a soothing voice. "Let’s get you home. Where’s your Porsche?"
She looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time, her green eyes muddy with confusion. "My Porsche?" she echoed. "I didn’t drive it. I don’t drive it down here; someone’d steal it." She pointed to the white Honda. "This is mine."
John couldn’t help but grin. Somehow, he couldn’t quite see her driving a Honda. He shook his head ruefully, and then he helped her into the passenger’s side. He went around to the other side and let himself in.
Elizabeth was staring forward in confusion, her car keys in her hand. "Did it again," she muttered. "Wrong side."
John laughed and slipped the keys out of her hand. "I’m driving you home," he informed her. "I don’t think you can drive right now." He studied her closely for a moment, her pale face, the swelling on the right side, the disjointed look in her eyes. "Unless you think you need to go to the hospital."
Panic flared in the depths of her green eyes. "No," she said. "No, I can’t . . . just . . . just take me home."
John nodded and started the car. Elizabeth was rooting around in the glove box, and as he put the car into reverse to back out of the slot, she pulled a wicked looking pistol from the glove box.
"What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!" he yelled, putting the car back in park and setting the brake. He grabbed the gun from Elizabeth’s hand. "Where’d you get this?"
Elizabeth stared at the weapon dumbly. "Ballard gave it to me. For protection when I have to come down here."
John tossed the gun back into the glove box and shut it again. "Well, you don’t need it right now. You’re safe." He backed the car out and drove away. "Jesus," he swore, running his hands through his hair in agitation. "You are something else, Dr. Knighton. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before."
She didn’t answer. She simply leaned her head against the window, her hand cupping her injured cheek. John drove across town as fast as he dared, darting glances at her every once in a while. Her clothing had suffered little during her attack, and he caught his gaze returning time and again to the place where the short skirt met the silky stockings covering her thigh. He forced himself to look away, completely disgusted with himself. The woman had almost been raped, and he was panting after her like a damn teenager.
They reached her house at last, and John helped her inside. Ignoring her protests that she was all right and he could go, he settled her on the couch and went into the kitchen to make an impromptu ice pack from a plastic bag and a towel. He came back into the living room and handed her the bag. She laughed hollowly, but she did place it on her injured cheek.
"How am I going to explain this at work?" she complained.
"There’s always the old ‘I ran into the door in the middle of the night going to the bathroom’ excuse," John supplied.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch. "Wonderful," she muttered.
"Can I ask you a question?" John said after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
Elizabeth sighed, but she didn’t protest.
"What in the bloody hell were you doing down at Ballard’s wearing a dress like that?"
Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked down at her dress in surprise. "What do you mean, a dress like that? I’ll have you know I paid $2400 for this dress."
John shook his head in amazement. "And it barely covers your ass. No freaking wonder Owens tried to rape you. I’m surprised you weren’t attacked when you walked in the door. What were you doing there anyway?"
Elizabeth glared at him, and for once, he was glad to see it. Her earlier muddled state had worried him.
"Not that it’s any of your business," she snapped, "but I was out on a date. I got a call to come to the lab, so I went. And then I went and bitched Ballard out about it. I’m sick of having my life interrupted like that."
"Then why do you do it?" John asked hoarsely, fighting the wave of jealousy that had shot through him when she mentioned the date.
Elizabeth tossed the ice bag onto the coffee table. "You wouldn’t understand," she said, starting to rise.
John pulled her back down to face him. "I’ll never understand anything if you don’t talk to me," he said vehemently. "Stop pushing me away, Elizabeth."
She gazed up at him, and he was shocked to see tears forming in her green eyes. One tear broke loose and began to travel down her cheek, and all his anger melted away. "Don’t," he said softly, leaning forward and kissing the salty wetness away. She held her breath when his lips touched her cheek, and he moved his head slightly and touched her forehead with his. "I want you," he whispered. He snaked his tongue out and touched her lips, and she moaned. A hot flash of excitement raced through him, and he reached up and cupped her face in his hands, then brought his mouth down on hers gently.
God, her lips were so soft. He could lose himself in them forever. His tongue snaked out again, and she parted her lips willingly enough, allowing him inside to explore the warm cavity of her mouth. They kissed for a long time, minutes, or maybe hours, and then he began to push her down on the couch. She didn’t protest; her arms went around him, pulling him closer to her. His erection was pulsing almost painfully as his hand moved up her stocking clad leg. His fingers danced over the silky nylon, and then he paused as he came to a wide band. She was wearing a garter belt. Another hot flash of lust surged through him, and he slowly ran his hand up over the band to touch the soft skin beyond. His fingers found the juncture of her thigh, and he shuddered slightly when he reached the silk panties covering her mound. Before he could explore further, however, the phone rang shrilly, and with a mighty shove, she pushed him off and ran across the room to answer it.
John sat on the edge of the couch and put his face in his hands, frustrated beyond belief. This was getting ridiculous. He heard her hang up the phone, and when she turned to him, her color was still high but her features were perfectly composed. "I have to go to the hospital," she said. "One of my patients took a turn for the worse."
John stared at her, disbelieving. How could she just turn it off like that? He was aching; she looked cool as ice. "Elizabeth," he began in a strangled voice, but she held up a hand to stop him.
"John, this is probably for the best. I told you before that my life was complicated enough without you in it, and I still believe that. I . . . I thank you for helping me tonight, but I think it’s best if we just forget this and stay away from each other." She glanced around the room at some of the expensive object d’art lying around, then down at her dress, and then at his casual attire of black T-shirt and blue jeans. "We’re from different worlds, John. It just wouldn’t work out."
John stood. His hands were clenched into fists of rage against his sides, although he still had a hard-on that was almost painful. "Whatever you say, Doc," he growled through clenched teeth. "But you better be careful. There are a lot of men out there who wouldn’t have stopped. There’s a name for women like you, you know. They’re called cock-teasers."
Elizabeth stiffened at his insult, but she said nothing as he stormed from the room. Only when he was outside did John realize that he didn’t have his car. Thank God, he still had his mobile phone. He called a friend and arranged to be picked up, and then he stomped off down the street. This was the last straw. If he had anything to do with it, he would never see Elizabeth Knighton again.
The next night, just before dusk, John grabbed his coat and headed for the door. He wanted to catch the girl his informant had spied eyeing the Faberge egg before she headed off to work. The sooner he found the bloody thing and got it back to its rightful owner, the better off he’d be. He liked Benjie, but he didn’t really want to see him anymore. John couldn’t look at the kid without thinking of his sister.
He opened his front door, and then he stopped short in surprise. Elizabeth Knighton stood there dressed in a pair of tight blue jeans and an Auckland Blues sweatshirt, her hand raised as if she’d been about to knock. She dropped her hand slowly, her expression almost guilty.
"What do you want?" John asked, his tone bordering on rudeness.
"Do you know where Benjie is?" she inquired.
John stared at her for a moment, and then he looked around the street outside behind her. "Come in here," he ordered, pulling her inside and shutting the door behind her. "Wouldn’t do for any of your friends to see us together, now would it?" he said spitefully.
Elizabeth ignored the barb and smiled. "It’s highly doubtful any of my friends would be on this side of town, John," she shot back, hurting him a lot more than he had hurt her.
John went into the main room of the house and walked over to the window to stare out at the water beyond, trying to calm both his temper and the lingering desire he still had for the woman.
"Do you know where Benjie is?" she repeated.
John turned to look at her. "He’s gone down South Island. You didn’t know?"
Elizabeth shook her head, puzzled. "Whatever did he go down there for?" she asked.
John gazed at her placidly. "Do you really have to ask that?"
Her brows drew together in a frown, and her green eyes grew stormy. "That little shit," she swore. "He never learns." She sighed deeply, then said, "Look, I have to go to the states tomorrow. Just tell him . . . if you see him before I get back . . . just let him know that I’ll be back as quick as I can." She turned and started from the room, but John crossed it in two long strides and stopped her.
"Wait," he said. "What’s the deal in the states?"
He didn’t think she would answer him at first, but at last, she said, "My father died."
"Shit," John swore under his breath. "Did you ask Ballard? I’m sure he’d know how to find Benjie."
Elizabeth stiffened. "I wouldn’t ask that bastard for anything," she said, and then she added, "It’s really not all that important anyway."
John stared at her in shock. "Benjie missing his dad’s funeral is not that important?"
An odd smile flitted across Elizabeth’s lips. "He’s already been buried," she informed him. "They didn’t even know he had kids until they were packing up his stuff and found some of my letters. I just have to go take care of some . . . business."
Understanding filtered through, and Lawless nodded sagely. "Got to go see how much you inherited, eh?"
Elizabeth’s eyes widened for a moment, and then that odd smile flitted across her lips again. "Sure, John," she agreed softly. "I’ve got to go find out how much the bastard left me. That’s all I’m interested in anyway, isn’t it? Money." She shook her head sadly, then began to turn away from him again.
He reached out to stop her and pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in the silkiness of her hair. "Christ, Elizabeth," he swore. "You’re driving me crazy, you know that?"
She gave a muffled laugh, although to him, it sounded more like a sob. "It’s mutual, I assure you," she said.
He hugged her tightly, stroking her hair as her body shook in his arms. "Babe," he said softly. "I’m so sorry about your dad."
He held her until her shudders had passed, and then he pulled back and looked down at her. Her green eyes were glazed with tears, but they were also filled with so much desire that he almost stopped breathing. "Dear God," he said softly as she ran her hands up over his chest and then encircled his neck. She pulled his head down to hers and pressed her mouth to his. She kissed him softly, but soon the dam broke, and he backed her into the wall, kissing her with all the pent-up desire of the last few weeks. This time nothing was going to stop him. No phone; no unwelcome visitors, nothing. If he didn’t take her soon, he was going to explode.
She tugged his shirt out of his jeans, and he helped her remove it, pulling it off over his head so she could run her hands over the smooth surface of his chest. He gasped as her fingers found his nipples and brushed them lightly. His mouth came back down on hers, more demanding now as he ran his hands all over her body. He cupped her full breasts in his hand, and her moans when he found her nipples fueled his excitement. He quickly removed her shirt and unhooked her bra, then dipped his head down to bury his face in her breasts.
She plunged her hands into his hair, pulling his mouth closer to her as he sucked first one nipple and then the other. He pulled away at last, drawing her back into his arms and kissing her deeply, reveling in the feel of her nipples pressing against his bare chest. Her hand wandered down his body and found his erection, and when she squeezed him lightly, he couldn’t hold back a groan. Without another word, he swooped her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. He skimmed her jeans and her panties from her body, growing even harder as he caught sight of the tight auburn curls covering her mound. He shucked his own jeans and lay his body completely over hers, kissing her desperately.
He parted her legs with his knee, then ran his hand up to part her nether lips open for him. She was dripping wet; it was easy to slide first one, then two, then three fingers inside her. She began to writhe beneath him as he pumped them in and out. Her green eyes captured his, begging for more, and he removed his fingers. He slid open the drawer in his bedside table, snared a condom, then slipped it on with shaking fingers. He moved himself above her and plunged in all the way to the root with one swift stroke.
She cried out beneath him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, striving for control. He didn’t want to come too soon, but the glorious wet warmth surrounding him was making it hard not to. He pulled almost all the way out, then plunged back in again, eliciting another cry, and then he began to move in a regular rhythm. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him in deeper, her body sheathing him like a tight warm glove. He’d never wanted to possess a woman so much, to make her his own with his body like this. He pounded into her, urging her on to her climax, and suddenly, her body arched and shuddered. He groaned deep in his throat as she began to spasm around him. His thrusts became more ragged, less rhythmic, and at last, with a harsh cry of his own, he sunk completely into her and came in a roaring gush. Her body spasmed again, milking him, and he groaned again at the intensity of his orgasm. Spent at last, he collapsed on top of her, light headed from the long-awaited release.
When he could breathe again, he pulled away and gazed down into her dazed eyes. He gently brushed her hair away from her face, then bent to kiss her softly. He rolled off her and pulled her head to his chest. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart as it began to slow, and before long, she was asleep in his arms. He held her close, and once he was sure she was completely under, he slid from the bed and went into the bathroom to clean up. He came back to bed and gathered her up in his arms, and soon he, too, was fast asleep.
When he woke the next morning, she was gone. She’d left no note, and when he looked at the clock, he realized with a sinking feeling that she must have already left for the States. Like a fool, he hadn’t even asked her how long she was going to be gone. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering the previous night. He couldn’t ever remember feeling like that with a woman. Not with Sonya, not even with his ex-wife Marla. It was if Elizabeth had taken a part of him when they’d made love. He missed her already; his body was protesting her absence. He felt reborn in a way, happier than he’d been in a long time, and he hoped the next few days would go by quickly. Surely, she wouldn’t be gone THAT long.
A week went by with excruciating slowness. John located the hooker who had been eyeing the Faberge egg, but she refused to admit she’d taken it. He didn’t believe her, though, and he kept after her, surprising her on her rounds each night until he had her jumpy. Finally, she screamed at him and admitted she’d taken the bloody thing. She took him back to her flat and gave it to him, warning him to stay away from now on or she’d sick her pimp on him. John wasn’t too worried. He didn’t think the woman wanted her pimp to know that she’d stolen something of such value and not shared it with him.
Benjie came back the next day, and he was thrilled to see the egg, but shocked to hear the news of his father. He took John out for a beer to celebrate the detective’s success, then grew quite maudlin after he’d downed about four beers. He told John about his father; how he’d been a doctor just like Elizabeth, but so busy at his job that he had little time for his youngest child. He’d doted on the oldest as she followed in his footsteps, but pretty much ignored Benjie. Lawless realized that this was probably the basis of the kid’s insecurity. In trying to please everyone, he was trying to please his father. By straying to the seedy parts of town, he was trying to gain his father’s attention.
It was obvious the kid loved his sister, but it was also clearly plain that he resented her too. When Lawless mentioned the inheritance, a startled expression crossed Benjie’s face, quickly followed by a calculating one that seemed quite out of place on his baby face. He left shortly afterward, paying John his final fee before he departed, leaving the detective staring after him curiously. As much as Benjie had talked tonight, John still had the feeling a lot was going on underneath the surface that he didn’t understand.
Therefore, he wasn’t unduly shocked when Benjie knocked on his door at 3:00 a.m. that morning. Lawless let him in, yawning sleepily as the kid explained that his sister had returned and they had fought. He was determined to get out from under her thumb, and he asked John’s help in locating a place of his own. Lawless let the kid sleep on the couch, making no promises for now. He wanted to talk to Elizabeth first, before he let himself get dragged into a bad situation.
He called the hospital the next day and was told that Dr. Knighton was on her rotation at the free clinic that day, so he left Benjie pouring over apartment ads and went in search of the boy’s sister. The clinic was almost empty, but the nurse on duty recognized him and pointed him back toward an office down a long hallway.
Elizabeth was standing at a filing cabinet going through a file when he knocked softly on the door. She looked up, and her expression grew curiously blank. She looked shagged out; there were dark circles under her eyes as if she were still suffering from jet lag. She didn’t smile or look at all pleased to see him, and John’s happiness at seeing her faded a bit when he realized his feelings weren’t returned.
"Hey, Doc," he said softly. "How was your trip?"
Elizabeth dropped the file on the desk and shrugged. "Long," she replied simply.
"Why didn’t you call me when you got back?" he asked.
She gazed at him for a long moment, and then a wry smile crossed her lips. "Look, Lawless, I guess you got the wrong idea. What happened the night before I left meant nothing. It was just sex, okay? I was down about my father dying and I needed someone. You just happened to be the first available warm body I ran across."
John felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He stared at her, his emotions running the gamut between devastation and downright rage. He opened his mouth to tell her what a cold bitch she was, but for some reason, his voice wouldn’t work. Without saying a word, he turned on his heel and stormed from the clinic. His anger grew with each step until he had worked himself into a murderous rage. He almost pulled the door off getting into his car, and then he paused as a thought struck him. He grinned then, realizing that he knew exactly how to hurt her. He started his car and headed for his house, praying that Benjamin Knighton would still be there when he got home.
Three long days later, Lawless headed for the docks for a sail. The boat was the only thing he’d won in his divorce case, and with more free time on his hands than usual over the last few months, he’d managed to get her into sailing condition. Today he really needed to get away from everything, so he’d come down here prepared for a long day on the waves.
He had helped Benjie find a nice loft apartment, and they’d moved the kid’s stuff out during the day when Elizabeth was at work. Benjie had taken everything down to the king size bed, leaving behind a completely empty room. He had left the Faberge egg, however, right in the middle of the coffee table where his sister couldn’t help but see it.
Benjie had barely settled into his new place, however, before Ballard had called and demanded that he undertake another trip down South Island. Lawless had tried to talk to the kid about his work for the drug lord, but Benjie had been in too much of a hurry to listen. Somehow, though, John was determined to get the kid away from the notorious criminal. Maybe when he returned from this trip.
Lawless hefted his cooler and stowed it on the boat, and then he went back for the rest of his gear. Just as his feet hit the dock, he looked up to see Elizabeth Knighton coming toward him. She was dressed in faded old blue jeans and an emerald green oversized sweater that almost reached her knees. The cold breeze ruffled her auburn hair, and she tucked one side behind her ear, making her look almost waifish. There were still dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept well for quite some time. She stopped a good yard from him, eyeing him warily.
"Have you seen Benjie?" she asked.
Lawless casually leaned back against one of the posts lining the docks. "Yeah," he answered shortly.
Pain flickered in her eyes, but all she said was, "Is he okay?"
John nodded slowly. "Seemed fine to me."
"Did you help him move?" she inquired.
"Yeah, I did," he answered. He held up a hand to forestall the obvious question. "Don’t ask where to because he asked me specifically not to tell you."
Elizabeth sighed harshly and stuck her hands in her jean pockets, making her look even more like a child. John shook off the sudden surge of protectiveness that shot through him and said impatiently, "Look, Doc. I’m kinda busy here."
"John," she said softly, "I’m sorry about the other day. I was upset from my trip and when I came home, I had a fight with Benjie. I guess I took it out on you. What I said . . . well, I didn’t mean that."
"Piss off, Doc. Go tell it to someone who gives a shit."
Lawless watched as his verbal dart flew through the air and struck its intended target. All the light went out of Elizabeth's face as if a switch had been flipped, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. She gazed at him sadly for a moment, and then she smiled crookedly and nodded as if she felt she deserved no less. She glanced down at her feet, then back up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I’m sorry," she repeated softly, and then she turned and walked away.
John swore softly. Why did she always bring out the worst in him? And why did it bother him so much? He shook his head in disgust and started toward his boat, but then he paused and glanced back at her retreating form, torn inside. At last, he yelled, "Hey, Doc!"
Elizabeth stopped and glanced back at him with trepidation on her face.
"Fancy a sail?"
Her brow furrowed as she considered his request. "I don’t know anything about sailing," she informed him.
Lawless shrugged. "I’ll sail. You can just sit back and relax."
She cocked her head and studied him for a moment, and then a slow smile crossed her face. "That sounds like fun."
John took the boat out a good ways away, and then he made his way back to his visitor. Part of him wanted to rail at her for the things she’d said to him, the times she’d hurt him, but another part wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her. He settled for taking a seat opposite her. She was staring out over the water, her face held up to catch the cool breeze.
"Benjie’s fine," John said at last. "He just went down South Island again for Ballard."
Elizabeth sighed. "I don’t understand why he does this. No matter where I take him, he always manages to get in with the worst possible crowd."
John leaned back to study her reaction as he carefully picked his words. "Don’t you think it has a lot to do with your father, how he was always at work and never paid attention to Benjie. I think he does this kind of thing to get your father’s attention." ‘And yours, too,’ he thought but didn’t say aloud.
Elizabeth was staring at him in the oddest way. "Benjie told you about our father?" she asked in a strained voice.
John nodded. "Yeah. He told me he was a doctor and that he was gone all the time."
Elizabeth burst out laughing. John gazed at her curiously, wondering at her reaction. "What?" he asked after a minute.
"My father was a truck driver," Elizabeth said. "Yeah, he was gone a lot. He was either out on the road driving or down at the bar drinking."
"A truck driver," John echoed incredulously. "But . . . I don’t . . . why would he lie?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "I guess he was ashamed of him. God knows I was." She gazed at John for a long moment, and then she took a deep breath as if trying to draw courage. "You want to know why money and ‘things’ mean so much to me? When I was growing up, we had nothing. Momma died when I was ten and Benjie was four. Daddy moved us up to north Louisiana, and we lived in this tiny little trailer in the most godawful trailer park you’ve ever set eyes on. Luckily, there was a woman in the park who’d watch Benjie for me so I could go to school, but the rest of the time, he was my responsibility." She smiled ruefully. "Guess I didn’t do such a good job raising him, huh?"
"Jesus, Elizabeth," John swore. "You were ten years old." Suddenly, a lot of things about the doctor were beginning to make more sense. He noticed, too, that as she began to talk about her past, her accent broadened into a near drawl.
"I knew school was my only ticket out of that hellhole," she continued. "I worked my ass off. It was a struggle, I can tell you. Going to school in the south when you’re poor white trash can be a very terrifying experience. I basically ignored the other kids and did the best work I could, good enough so that my teachers soon learned that I might not dress like a princess, but I DID have a brain. I finished high school a year early and got a full scholarship. I finished the pre-med program at the local college a year early, and then I went on to the med center. I guess Benjie just kind of got lost in the shuffle. He flunked out of high school, then started hanging out with some real tough characters. When I graduated, I got a shot at a hospital in Chicago, so I took him up there, hoping the move would straighten him out." She laughed hollowly. "It didn’t. He managed to hook up with an even rougher crowd up there. I put him in therapy. I did everything I could for him, but I guess it wasn’t enough. He finally got arrested, but I had some friends at the police station, cops who I knew from the ER, and they got the charges dropped. Then a friend of mine told me about the exchange program with New Zealand. I did some research. Auckland sounded like a great place with a low crime rate, so we packed up and moved again." She sighed heavily. "And within two months of moving here, Benjie hooked up with Matt Ballard."
John winced. "Benjie got you involved with him, didn’t he?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah. The doctor that used to work in Ballard’s ‘lab’ had a heart attack, so Benjie told him all about me. Ballard invited me down and tried to sell me on the idea, and I laughed in his face. Then, about a week later, I got a frantic phone call about Benjie and was told to come down to that warehouse. When I got there, I found Benjie. He was . . ." She paused a minute, her voice breaking, but she cleared her throat and continued. "Someone had beaten the shit out of him. There was no way I could get him out of there and take him to the hospital because there were about ten of Ballard’s thugs looking on, so I did what I could there. I patched him up and got him out of there, but I’ve been on call for Ballard ever since. I know if I refuse, he’ll kill Benjie."
John sat forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together as if in prayer, staring at the deck. She was right. No matter how good of a drug runner the kid might be, if crossed, Ballard would kill him with no compunction whatsoever. "What happens if the people at the hospital find out?" he asked.
Elizabeth shrugged. "I imagine I’d get deported." She ran her fingers through her fine auburn hair. "I’ve been living this weird double life for almost a year now, and sometimes I feel like I’m being pulled in two. And then I met you. At first, I thought you were one of Ballard’s men, but you were with Willie, and I knew that Willie was okay. Then I talked to Snow . . ."
"Officious little prick" John growled. He had grown to hate his old operator over the last few months. The more he thought about the way the man had set him up, the madder he got.
Elizabeth laughed softly. "Yeah, that’s kind of the impression I got of him, too. He was so happy to tell me all that stuff about you, and then when I realized he was your contact in the police station . . . well, it really kind of blew me away. I talked to a lot of cops in Chicago when I worked there, some who were undercover. They’re under so much pressure because they know if their covers are blown, they’re dead men. The only person they can trust is their contact back at the station. I know cops go over to the other side on occasion, but their operator is trained to see those signs and do something about it. It sounds almost like Snow pushed you over."
Startled, John nodded slowly. "I hadn’t really thought about that. It just got to a point where I realized the ‘bad’ guys weren’t all bad, and then when Snow pulled his shit, I saw that the ‘good’ guys weren’t all good." He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. "I was so confused there for a while I think I was half crazy." He looked up at her. "So you didn’t really believe Snow?"
"I didn’t know what to believe," Elizabeth admitted. "But I knew I felt some sort of kinship with you. We had both been living a lie. And God knows I was attracted to you." She looked up at him and her green eyes sparkled for a moment as she grinned. "Kind of hard NOT to be attracted to you, you know? I just didn’t want to get involved. I . . . I’ve always managed to keep men at a distance. I never want to get into a relationship like my parents had." She shivered slightly as the wind across the water picked up. She looked out away from him, and her voice lowered a notch. "You want to know what one of my first memories is? I guess I was about five, maybe six, and I was crawling around on the floor in the kitchen with my mom. Daddy had hit her in the face and knocked out a tooth. She was desperately trying to find it because she knew if she put it in some milk, she could take it to a dentist and have it put back in. We crawled around on that floor, and I can remember the sound of the blood from her broken nose pattering down on the white linoleum as we searched for her tooth."
Elizabeth’s voice broke, and John could take no more. He went to her and pulled her into his arms. "Hush, now," he said softly, rocking her. "Don’t cry." His words only seemed to make her weep harder, so he just held her, soothing her until she cried herself out.
She pulled away at last and looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks. "Make love to me, John," she whispered.
John brushed her hair back away from her face. "Is this really going to be making love, or is it just going to be sex," he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.
Pain flashed across her face, but then she shook her head. "No, it’s not just sex. It never was." She reached up and kissed him softly. "Please, John," she begged.
Willingly, he complied. They stood, and he led her below to the small cabin. He kissed her gently, then slowly removed her clothes, marveling at her beauty as each inch of skin was revealed to him. "God, you’re beautiful," he whispered, going to his knees before her. He laid his cheek against the flat of her belly, breathing in the lovely scent of her. He felt her hands dive into his hair, and he raised his hand to part her legs. She moaned as his tongue snaked out and found her. He licked the tiny nub of flesh above her opening, then dipped inside to taste the sweetness within. She moaned again, his name this time, and he rolled his tongue into a point and began to move it in and out of her like a miniature cock. With his fingers, he began to rub her, and she grabbed onto his hair almost painfully as she tried to stay upright. Suddenly, her entire body began to shudder, and he removed his tongue and replaced it with two fingers, inserting them as far as he could. He began to suck on that tiny nub and move his fingers in and out, sticking them in deeper each time, and at last she came, crying out his name as her body spasmed around his fingers. Her knees unhinged and he bore her down to the bed, kissing his way back up her body.
He stripped quickly, sucking in his breath when her luscious lips located his nipples and began to suck lightly. He repaid her in kind, cupping her full breasts in his hands, then licking the nipples until they stood upright, then gently twisting them until her body was arching off the bed. She reached for him and began to stroke him lightly. He fished a condom out of his wallet, and he held his breath as she helped him put it on. Then he moved his body on top of hers, and she guided him to her opening. He entered her slowly, drawing out the pleasure, watching her face as he moved inch by inch into her. When he was completely inside, he flexed his stomach muscles, expanding his cock inside her. Her eyelids fluttered, and she moaned deep in her throat. He began to move then, slowly and rhythmically at first, then faster, then faster still. Sweat began to pour from his body, and the only sounds in the small cabin were the slapping noise of their flesh meeting and the grunts and moans from each of them as they came together in heated union. He began to pound into her, harder and harder, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him even deeper inside her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he felt his orgasm rushing toward him. He began to grind himself into her, aching for release, and then he felt her let go. Her body convulsed, and she dug her nails into his back as she cried out his name. That was all it took. His balls tightened, and then he was coming, shooting into her in a long hot flow that seemed unending. Her body continued to spasm, and he groaned as his cock released one final surge. He rolled over, bringing her up on top of him, kissing her face, her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. He’d never felt anything like this. The lovemaking they shared was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. For the first time in his life, he knew what it meant to be one with another person.
They lay like that for a long time, her cheek resting on his chest. At last, she said, "Tell me about Sonya."
At first, he didn’t quite know what to say, but at last, he just told her the whole story. His time with Willie, Sonya and Paulie. Trying to keep them out of trouble while trying to keep his real identity a secret. His wife’s defection, then Terry Bowers, the Ozzies, and that whole disaster with the armed robbery. Snow’s betrayal, and his telling Sonya that John was a narc and her subsequent suicide. Once he’d finished his story, they lay quietly for a moment.
At last, she observed, "You’re still beating yourself up about Sonya. It really wasn’t your fault, John."
"Yes, it was," he insisted. "I used her. I knew how she felt about me, and when Marla and I broke up, I used her to sooth my bruised ego. That was a shit thing to do."
"But understandable," she continued. "And Sonya was happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her." Elizabeth propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him. "Snow’s the shit for telling her you were a narc. I know cops, John. That’s NOT the way cops operate. Good cops, anyway." She idly pushed back his long dark hair. "Besides, it’s over now. You can’t go back and change anything. You need to let it go." She bent down and kissed him again, a long slow kiss that seemed to go on forever. He could feel himself getting hard again, and this time she took command. She sat up and began to ride him, moving up and down on him in an irregular rhythm that was rapidly bringing him toward a climax. He reached up and began to kneed her nipples between his fingers. She threw back her head and began to move faster. One of her hands dipped between her legs, and the sight of her pleasuring herself set him off. He thrust up into her hard, coming in a great spurt, shuddering from the force of his orgasm. He pulled her down to him, kissing her hard, and then he felt her own body shudder in climax. She breathed his name in a long sigh, and then she relaxed on top of him.
He held her tightly, running his fingers through her sweat dampened hair, and soon enough, they both fell fast asleep. Some time later, he had no idea how much time had passed, he awoke to the wonderful feeling of something warm wrapped around his cock. He opened his eyes and looked down to see that Elizabeth had removed the condom and her mouth was moving up and down on him. He groaned deeply and closed his eyes, giving himself over to the wonderful sensation of her tongue licking up and down his cock. Her hand was playing with his balls, and each time she went down on him, she took him farther and farther into her mouth and down her throat. He began to thrust up into her mouth, grunting softly with each thrust, and when she began a light suction, he completely lost control. He thrust up once more, sending his cock deep into her throat, and then he began to come. She swallowed every bit, licking and sucking the head to get every last drop.
"Jesus," he muttered as she came to sit on top of him, straddling him around the waist. She grinned down at him.
"Did you enjoy that?" she asked playfully.
He pulled her down to him, kissing her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "Dumb question, Doc," he said when he broke the kiss. "Where in the bloody hell did you learn to do that?"
"You’d be amazed what you can learn in medical school," she said with a laugh.
He burst out laughing and flipped her over on the bed, looming over her, kissing her all over her beautiful face. He gazed down at her, amazed at the way she made him feel, happier than he’d ever been in his life. Then he noticed the waning light coming into the cabin.
"Shit," he swore. "We’d better be getting back. It’s getting late."
Elizabeth’s face fell. "Do we have to?" she whispered. "Can’t we just sail away from here?"
John cupped her elfin face in his hands, rubbing across her jaw line with his thumbs. "I wish we could," he said softly. "But running away never solved anything. You should know that by now."
Elizabeth nodded sadly, and John gave her another quick kiss and got up from the bed. They dressed quickly, then went outside. The sun was rapidly moving lower in the sky, so John turned the boat around and headed back for the dock. Elizabeth stayed close beside him, and the two of them couldn’t seem to stop touching one another. By the time the dock was in sight, John was already hard again, aching to be inside her one more time.
Unfortunately, when he got closer to the dock, he could see two figures waiting for them. As they got closer, he realized that it was Willie and Dave Bruford. A sudden sinking sensation began in the pit of his stomach. Both men looked uncharacteristically grim.
John docked the boat, and then he helped Elizabeth to the pier. "What’s wrong," he asked immediately.
Dave turned to Elizabeth. "Dr. Knighton?" he asked.
"Yes?" she said faintly, gripping John’s arm.
"Could you come with me, please?" Dave said quietly. "I need you to . . . " he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.
"Jesus, Dave," John growled. "What the hell is going on?" He looked at his other friend. "Willie?"
Willie looked over at Elizabeth, his dark eyes sad. "They think they found Benjie, Doc."
"Dead?" she asked in a strangled voice. "Oh, God."
John wrapped his arms around her, glaring at Dave. "You could have done that better, Dave," he snapped.
Bruford shrugged. "Sorry. I’m just trying to keep this as low-key as possible. He was found in a really raw part of town. I didn’t think the doctor would want that all over the papers."
"Where is he?" Elizabeth asked in a raw voice. "The morgue?"
Dave nodded, and Elizabeth pulled away from John and began to stalk toward her car. "We’ll meet you there," Lawless told Dave and Willie, and then he ran after Elizabeth, catching up to her before she could drive away. "Let me drive," he commanded, taking her keys from her and pushing her into the passenger side of the white Honda. She allowed him to take over, and he got in the car and pulled away, roaring toward the morgue.
Elizabeth wouldn’t talk on the way, so John settled for keeping an arm around her shoulder. Her body shook every so often with a violent shudder, and he ached to hold her, to take her pain from her. They reached the morgue, followed closely by Dave and Willie, and Elizabeth went right inside and insisted they show her to her brother. The attendant didn’t want to take her down; they usually showed the deceased using a video camera, but Elizabeth brushed away his arguments. She informed the man that she WAS a doctor; she knew what she was getting into. At last, the man agreed, and he led the four of them down into the morgue.
Willie waited outside, but John insisted that he be allowed to go in with Elizabeth. The attendant finally agreed, and Dave came along as well. The attendant walked over to a wall of metal lockers, and then he pulled out a drawer containing a long, sheet covered object. He looked up at Elizabeth, then slowly pulled the sheet down to show her the face.
Silence permeated the room as they all stared down at the still face of Benjamin Knighton. He looked younger in death. He didn’t really look dead. He seemed to be merely sleeping. Elizabeth reached down and lightly touched his blond curls. "Oh, Benjie," she breathed, the tears coming at last.
"Doctor Knighton, is this your brother?" Dave asked.
"It’s her brother, man," John snapped at his friend.
"Come on, John," Dave said. "You know I have to do this. I don’t exactly enjoy it."
"It’s my brother, Detective Bruford," Elizabeth said through her tears. "Benjamin Edward Knighton."
"You know I’m going to have to ask you some questions, Dr. Knighton," Dave said miserably.
"Not now," John cautioned. "That can wait."
"Look, John," Dave began.
"No, you look." John left Elizabeth’s side and went to stand nose to nose with his old friend, shaking with anger. The morgue attendant slipped out the door to avoid the explosion. John began to berate Dave, and the two of them yelled at each other for a few minutes, until suddenly, John realized that Elizabeth was no longer in the room.
"Where’d she go?" he asked his friend, but Dave just shrugged.
"I dunno," he said. "I was too busy trying to knock some sense into your thick head."
"Shit," John swore, going out into the hallway. Willie was still there leaning up against the wall, and he looked up curiously as they came out.
"So was it Benjie?" he inquired.
"Did you see Elizabeth?" John asked.
"The doc? Yeah, she headed out that way," Willie said, pointing down the hallway. "She wouldn’t say anything though; she looked ticked. So, was it Benjie?"
"Yeah, it was Benjie," John informed his friend. "So where in the hell was she going?" he mused to himself. Suddenly, a horrible thought struck him, and he turned on Dave. "Did you find him anywhere close to Matt Ballard’s hangout?"
Dave nodded slowly. "Down the street from there. In this alley in front of some old warehouse."
"Shit," John swore. "She’s going after Ballard."
"Bloody hell," Dave said. "What would she do that for? That man’s major trouble."
John pushed his hair back out of his face. "Cause Benjie worked for the dickhead," he explained. "Look, we’ve got to go after her. There’s no telling what trouble she’ll get into." He began to pull Dave toward the exit and then he stopped dead in his track, his heart dropping to his toes.
"What?" Dave asked.
"She’s in the Honda. She’s got a gun, man," John said. "She’s going to try to kill him."
"Bloody hell," Dave swore again, and then he ran for the exit. "Come on, then. Let’s go stop her before she does something stupid."
John joined his friend. He yelled at Willie to stay put, not wanting to put his friend into any more danger, and then he hit the door right on Dave’s heels, his chest tight with worry. He had to reach Elizabeth before she got hurt. He couldn’t lose her, not now.
They raced across town in Dave’s car, using the sirens to go through stoplights, although Dave was careful to turn them off when they got close to Ballard’s side of town. They searched for the white Honda, and moved by some hidden instinct, John pointed Dave toward the warehouse containing Ballard’s lab. Sure enough, the Honda and a black Mercedes were parked in front. John was out of the car before Dave, sprinting inside the warehouse and through the twisting passageways. The door at the end stood open, and when John moved into the room, he saw a heart-stopping sight.
Elizabeth had backed Ballard up against a wall in the lab, and she had her pistol pointed straight at his heart. John couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the drug lord looked more angry than afraid. Lawless moved over closer to Elizabeth quietly, not wanting to startle her into doing something rash.
"Elizabeth," he said softly. "Put the gun down."
She didn’t move. It was as if she hadn’t heard him. Her gaze and the gun were still locked on Ballard. The drug lord glanced over at Lawless, and his eyes narrowed.
"Elizabeth," John repeated, coming a little closer to her, but not too close. "Please. Give it here now. He’s not worth it."
"He killed Benjie," she said at last.
"Yeah, I killed the little prick," Ballard snarled. "He was skimming. No one steals from Matt Ballard."
John ignored the man and moved another step closer to Elizabeth. "Killing him isn’t going to bring Benjie back," he insisted. He took another step forward, and another. He could reach out and touch her now. "Please, Elizabeth. Give me the gun. Don’t ruin your life because of this scum."
He took yet another step closer and moved his hand over the top of hers. "Let go, Elizabeth," he implored in a soothing voice. "Let me have the gun."
Her grip on the gun loosened a bit, and Lawless gently pried it from her fingers. "That’s it, babe," he said gently. "Give it to me."
"He killed Benjie, John," Elizabeth said, her voice thick with tears. "My baby brother. He killed him."
John wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her head in his chest. "It’s okay, love," he said soothingly. "He’ll get his."
"Like hell I will," Ballard growled. He bent down, put his hand inside his boot, and drew out a gun. He pointed it at Elizabeth and Lawless, but before he could pull the trigger, the sound of a gunshot rocked the room. Ballard looked down in shock, and John saw the rapidly growing bloodstain right above his heart. The drug lord clutched his chest, and then he went to his knees. He muttered one last curse, then fell to the floor. Lawless glanced over to see Dave standing in the doorway with his gun out, smoke still rising from the barrel.
"Couldn’t let him kill my best friend, now could I?" Dave explained, his voice more than a little shaky.
John couldn’t help but laugh. He hugged Elizabeth tightly and buried his face in her hair. Thank God, it was all over.
But it wasn’t over. There were still a lot of interviews with the police that they all had to go through. Dave came out in the clear. He’d had justifiable cause to kill Ballard, and no one was crying over losing one of the most notorious drug lords in all of Auckland. The whole thing was kept as quiet as possible, but still enough came out that the board of Elizabeth’s hospital was none too pleased. They didn’t fire her outright, but they did put her on probation.
She seemed to draw away from John during these times, avoiding him as much as possible, throwing herself into work as if to keep from having to talk to him. He felt helpless. He wanted to be with her so badly, but she wouldn’t let him close to her. When Benjie’s body was finally released, she took her brother back to the states to bury him. John didn’t even find out she’d gone until the day after she left, and he realized then that he’d probably lost her for good. He tried to pretend that it didn’t matter, but deep down inside, his heart felt like it had been ripped in two.
Less than a fortnight later, however, he ran into Willie at the pub. His friend was full of the news that Peter Griffin had quit the free clinic and Elizabeth Knighton had taken over the position. John tried to force himself to stay put, but at last, he could take it no longer. Leaving Willie grinning knowingly after him, he left the pub and headed for the clinic.
The place had cleared out by the time he got there. The nurse at the desk was already gone for the day, but Elizabeth was still there, standing behind the counter as she looked over some papers. She glanced up when he walked in, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
She was thinner than he remembered, more fragile looking. Her face was drawn, but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He ached to take her into his arms.
"Willie said you were back," he said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "You okay?"
Elizabeth nodded slightly. "Yeah. I guess so."
John looked around the clinic. "Willie said you were taking over for Dr. Griffin. Did the hospital fire you?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I quit. I guess I finally realized there was more to life than buying things I didn’t even need." She glanced around the clinic. "Somehow, I get more satisfaction working here than I ever did up at the hospital." She laughed ruefully. "I guess once poor white trash, always poor white trash, you know?"
"Elizabeth," John admonished softly. "Don’t do that."
She ignored him and bent to sweep the papers into a drawer. "I need to close up, John," she informed him, dismissing him with both her words and her tone.
"Did what we have mean anything at all to you?" John asked before he could stop himself.
Elizabeth wouldn’t meet his gaze. She stared down at her hands and shrugged.
John gazed at her sadly for a moment. Had she ever cared for him at all, or had she just been using him for her own purposes. And would he ever know?
"Well, guess I’ll see you around, Doc," he said shortly. He turned and headed for the door, but something made him look back.
Elizabeth had lifted her head and was watching him leave. When she saw him look back, she dropped her head and began to fiddle with some things lying on top of the desk, but not quickly enough. He’d seen the misery on her face, the tears in her eyes. She DID want him; she was just too bloody proud to beg.
"Hey, Doc," he called softly.
"Yeah?" she asked, not looking up.
"Fancy a pint down at the pub?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
For a long moment, she said nothing, but then she looked up. Her eyes were still sparkling with unshed tears, but a tremulous smile had crossed her beautiful full lips. She gazed at him for a long time, and then she replied, "That sounds lovely, John."
The End